


The Treachery of Beautiful Things

by Hypermnestra



Series: After the Requiem [1]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eye Trauma, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mentions of Death, Multiple Religion & Lore Sources, New York City, Protective Raphael (TMNT), Psychological Trauma, The turtles are less on the teenage side of things at this point, and it involves a character of mine, so this is the first thing I'm posting on here, woops i'll have to explain who Jude is a little more
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-07-19 15:11:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19976149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypermnestra/pseuds/Hypermnestra
Summary: After the death of their Sensei, the Turtles have managed to more or less move on. Jude has been by their side for a long time, and been closer to Raphael than he's been with anyone else in his life. Life continues on even after our worlds are shaken to the core; this is the story of what happens after the aftermath, and the story of a million beautiful treacheries found between tragedy.





	1. Beneath Her Gaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the death of their Sensei, the Turtles have managed to more or less move on. Jude has been by their side for a long time, and been closer to Raphael than he's been with anyone else in his life. Life continues on even after our worlds are shaken to the core; this is the story of what happens after the aftermath, and the story of a million beautiful treacheries found between tragedy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Jude is an OC of mine. A quick rundown (a more indepth analysis can be given if requested): 
> 
> * Jude is an albino man roughly around the age of 19, having met the turtles when they were 16 and he was 17. He is a prophet and gifted with clairvoyance: a mystic in the Catholic sense of the word, prone to ecstatic visions of the future and communicating with divine forces. His prophetic powers are immense, and though he can usually call the visions to him or pull them out of the twilight, both require an intense concentration of will. However, his powers also extended to working with holy energy and being able to sense things like the right path to take, harmful intentions, even lies or what someone is doing at that very moment. I do have art available of him, if you'd like to see, go [here!](https://66.media.tumblr.com/19a25b88540e31d062096eb0b2ad8f46/tumblr_pfsj5e5hUx1r65754_500.png)

It was a beautiful treachery, how much could change in a year. For all the boons that he and his friends had been blessed with, so too were there hindrances, from minor happenstance to tragedy. The small flush in his cheeks that still happens every time he signs his name as 'Jude Hamato' instead of 'Jude Harmon' is counteracted by the quivering pang in his chest as he remembered the nights spent cradling Splinter's most tempestuous son as he mourned, his raging winds turned to dirging gales. He remembered, in tandem, the master's final moments each and every night, as he whispered a prayer for the repose of his soul.

Raphael had gone out with the rest of his brothers on patrol, as they said that even with their sensei gone, the watch of the city he had bestowed on them remained. Though, the way that Leonardo had put it wasn’t in so many words, the seer knew. Jude also knew that to protest would be wrong, a sin against the purpose they were so obviously meant for; but how badly he wanted to, especially on nights like tonight, where the uptick in day and night time crime had made the news. He had tried to protest though, even if it was in vain, only to be reassured that they could handle whatever came their way, Raphael promising to call him when there was time.

The beads of the rosary in his hands shone like new blood as they slipped through his fingers, each one a prayer, though the only mysteries his mind was contemplating at the moment was where in the city Raph and his brothers were; he asked for something, a sign that they were alright. And if not near, that they weren’t far enough to make it home by sunrise. For two hours he prayed, his hands looping back around the crucifix to the first bead again when the blare of his cellphone’s ring cut through the silence of the apartment. 

Jude moved off of his knees quicker than he realized, depositing the rosary at the feet of a statue of the Virgin Mary that stood at the center of the table in his dining room and crossing himself before picking the phone up off its charger and bringing it to his ear. “Raph?” He asked, at first greeted only with the night-time sounds of the city: New York traffic and the far-off mutterings of people farther below.

  


“Yeah, it’s me. You’re still up, Jude?”  
  
Violet eyes rolled, though a smile that the other couldn’t see graced his lips. “Obviously.” He felt a weight lift from his shoulders, mouthing a quick ‘Thank you’ while his eyes were upturned. Making his way towards the leather couch in the living room, Jude ran fingers through his hair, the snowy locks shifting down his back. “If you’re calling to check in, then that means you must be close by.” He found himself looking around, something instinctual telling him that they could be closer than he thought; it wouldn’t be the first time a mutant turtle seemingly appeared in his apartment with no more warning than a smirk in his direction.  
“Maybe. Th’ others went off ‘ta bed already. We took a bit of a beating, but nothin’ worse than usual.” As Raphael spoke, Jude was already standing up and moving to pull on his shoes. “But it’s such a nice night out, I thought I’d...ah, I’unno, check out how this statue with the lady and the two little guys with the bell works..” Jude could hear the smirk in his voice, and the invitation was clear, one of the reasons that when he replied, the albino was already pulling his key from the locked door and moving down the steps of his building.

  


  


“You’re at the statue of Minerva?”  
“Yeah, tha’s it! I kept wantin’ to call ‘er Athena.” The line earned a laugh from Jude, who teasingly pointed out that the red-masked ninja was still too stuck on a certain book they’d read together. “Ey, well, I can’t help it. Only quality stuff sticks around in this head’a mine. Why else would I always be thinkin’ bout you?”  
Jude felt his mouth move into another smile, moving his hair to one side as he walked. The statue in question was only a couple more blocks away, and his feet took him faster than one might think someone who spends most of their time standing would move after a day of work. “I’m being gagged with the metaphorical spoon, Raphael.” he replied, though even such a cheesy line made his chest warm to the point of bursting. He had never thought that someone would ever use such a line on him before, much less that it would actually work.

  


“Oh? Well I can find somethin’ else t’gag ya wit-” Before he could hear the rest of the sentence, Jude shook his head and hung up the phone, coming upon the statue. It was an old piece, put there as a memorial to one James Gordon Bennett, the founder of the New York Herald newspaper. He remembered reading that it had originally been the crown of the paper’s offices, but after they had been torn down, it had been moved to the spot it was in now. The statue was dark bronze, showing the goddess of wisdom watching over two bell ringers, who chimed out the hour, for the monument was also a clocktower, and if one sat near it, you could see the two bell ringers do their job. During the daytime, the spot was a popular one for tourists and neighborhood locals to eat or sit for a breather in the sweltering New York summer; Jude himself could recall many a Sunday morning when he had sat beneath the statue at one of the many iron tables and chairs and eat whatever pastry he had bought on the way to Mass. But at night, the goddess’ watchful eyes looked mainly over the drunk tourists (for New York was always filled with tourists in the summer) young and old, and Jude thought that it was indeed more wise for them to rest there and wait for their rides than many other alternatives. 

  


Tonight, however, there were no half-asleep men or girls who were snapping their last pictures of Saturday night in the wrought-iron chairs. In fact, it was empty, save the stray wrapper from a sandwich place nearby that blew past. He checked the time on his phone, which read that it was just a minute or so till four in the morning, before violet eyes moved up to meet Minerva’s gaze. For just a split second, he caught a glimpse of red, and a smile broke out on his features again, taking a few steps closer to the monument.  
“Cm’on, don’t be coy now. I thought you had something to gag me with?”  
“I wouldn’t go around just sayin’ that kinda stuff.” Jude heard a voice from behind him, familiar as the voices that called him from somewhere much farther away. The seer turned, moving before he could come up with an adequate response until he had wrapped his arms around the larger turtle, his hands pressing lovingly against a hard, scratched and scarred shell. He felt Raphael’s arms come around him too, felt a chuckle from the other as if it rumbled in his own chest. But Jude held onto him tighter, a sigh released from deep in his lungs that turned into a laugh while Raph moved them around and half pulled the albino into the shadows, to the side of the war goddess and her bell ringers right as the bells pealed. 

  


“As long as you’re the only one who hears, I think I’ll survive.” Jude smiled still as his forehead bumped up against Raph’s own, the bandana’s edges pushed against his brow. Raphael was saying something about how this was New York, and he was sure that nothing in the city was only ever heard by one person, but Jude could admit to himself that only half of his attention lay with what was being said; the other half sent his eyes searching, looking for new cuts or bruises and finding a few. A pale hand reached up to the lightning shaped chip in Raph’s plastron, palm lightly pressing against it. 

  


“Ey, Jude, my eyes are up here.” The red-masked turtle gently directed the seer’s gaze back up, a few long strands of white falling forward. In the shadows and half-light glow of the clock faces, Jude’s hair almost seemed luminous, and when he pressed his forehead back against Raph’s, he could feel the turtle relax.  
“Sorry. I was just worried, all night, I hear about nothing but police investigating this and a shooting on that street, and I --” Jude’s words came to an abrupt cut-off as he felt lips against his own, the headlights of a passing late-night taxi moving over the statue and casting them further into shadow while he returned the kiss. He could practically feel the words on those lips as he kissed them: _I’m okay, I’m okay. Aren’t I right here?_

  


The kiss broke apart as quickly as it had come, and Jude looked up at Raphael with a small smile on his face. He felt as if a weight had been lifted from him again, this one smaller but heavier; despite that they had been together since before so much had changed, that Raph had come climbing in his apartment at all hours or that he had woken up to the sounds of Mikey lightheartedly arguing with Donatello over what constituted breakfast pizza from the other’s room in the lair, there was always a small part of him that was afraid. Afraid that one of the nights he closed the balcony door after Raph or all four brothers, that the goodbye kiss he’d leave on those lips would be the last one. As if they might disappear and never return, leaving him as alone as he’d ever been.

  


What an irrational fear it was, for he was tied to them now in a way beyond any he would have ever thought. Raphael offered Jude a ride on his back to take him home, but the seer shook his head. “Why don’t I come to the lair tonight? I haven’t seen your room in…” he trailed off, counting on his fingers before Raph interrupted him with a huffing laugh, the terrapin crossing his arms and leaning against the monument. 

  


“Wha’s it been, like a whole week? Maybe I miss all yer candles and the little angel statues with the light up wings at the end’a yer bed.” Raph’s bandana tails shifted, long and tattered at the ends, as he cocked his head to the side, but Jude wasn’t to be deterred, and so it was into the sewers they went. The journey seemed to always go by quickly now, after having memorized the way to the Hamato lair so long ago. It was a comforting feeling each time he moved through, despite the dampness of the stones and the unpleasant knowledge of where he was, and even those two things had ceased to bother him much. He followed Raphael through the winding tunnels and pathways until the door was being pushed open and Jude cast his gaze around, catching quick glimpses of the lives still being lived here. He saw Mikey, half-hanging off the couch and still in a dream, the T.V. in front of him playing a succession of old music shows that had the pair moving towards Raph’s room to the crooning of Frank Sinatra wanting to play among the stars.

_“Let me see what Spring is like on Jupiter and Mars…”_

  


Jude stepped in after the turtle, closing the door affixed with a stop sign as quietly he could. The program Mikey had been watching was turned up so loud that he could still hear the singing. He watched as Raph sighed heavily and carefully placed his sai onto a nearby weapon stand that would have been too close to the bed for most people’s comfort, leaning almost sheepishly against the door, his eyes moving from Raph only in small instances, to look at the Japanese posters he had seen before, to see the same drum set with its broken cymbals, before they returned to the turtle again.  
  
_“In other words, hold my hand;_  
_In other words, darling, kiss me_  
_Fill my heart with song, and let me…”_  


“Cm’on, Jude, don’t be so coy. It’s not like ya ain’t slept here before.” Raphael’s voice was teasing, and he could tell that the other was preening, being able to not so subtly turn the seer’s earlier jab around to him. Pushing himself from the spot, Jude simply smiled, his hands already gathering his hair, moving it all back, allowing him to remove the worn t-shirt he’d had on, fading print on the gray fabric reading “PRAY FOR YOUR HATERS” in bold white lettering. He still remembered how hard that Raphael had laughed when he first saw him in it; the shirt hit the floor unceremoniously, then next his shorts, emblazoned with a pattern made up of Asian-style tigers.

  


“It’s less being coy and more that I was afraid you wouldn’t like my colors.” Jude climbed into the bed as he spoke, wearing nothing but a pair of bright blue boxer-briefs that might have clung a bit more tightly in the summer heat than he’d have liked. Raph glanced down, and, seeing the blue, feigned a hurt expression on his face, those jeweled green eyes looking into the pale violet of his own.

  


“It’s not like I got somethin’ against blue er anythin’, but I think the best way to deal with this would be ta just...take ‘em off.” He rolled over, playfully taking Jude into his arms and positing himself above the young prophet, his lips finding purchase in the other’s clavicles, green skin vivid against Jude’s pale pallour. With a nod from his boyfriend, the undergarments were indeed pulled down and tossed away, while Raphael’s lips went back to what they’d been doing. He kissed at Jude’s neck, leaving marks that seemed almost like strikes of lightning, how much they stood out against the albino’s skin. And between them the heat in the room swelled, until they became lost in one another, then joined together, again and again, until Minerva’s bells rang to signal in the sunrise.

  


Jude’s head was at once cleared and still spinning, wrapped up as he was in Raph’s arms. The turtle’s front pressed heavily against his back, those three-fingered hands splayed over his heart and wrapped about one of his hips. His body was still slick with cooling sweat, though if it was his own or a mix of both of theirs, he didn’t know and didn’t care either way, too content with how natural it felt to intertwine his sore legs with the red-masked turtle’s own. He felt the muscles in Raphael’s legs tensing in his sleep, then relaxing, and the seer burrowed himself into those arms, which only made them hold him tighter. His hair, which had gone from being fanned out beneath his head to being tangled in his boyfriend’s strong grip to back again, was pulled to one side, the very ends hanging off the edge of the small mattress. Raph’s face rested half on a pillow and half on one of Jude’s shoulders, the seer minding neither him nor the myriad of love bites and hickeys that ran up and down his neck, collarbone and shoulders like constellations of red stars. Sleep would take him soon, eyelids already beginning to fall, a heaviness as comforting as a blanket given when one hasn’t one settling over his body. His mind lazily turned over what had happened the past few hours: from their phone call, to leaving his apartment, to meeting Raph at the statue of Minerva, coming here and the symphony their bodies and voices and hearts had made together. A fleeting thought came upon him, just as sleep edged its way from the corners of his psyche.

  


_Hopefully, the goddess heralds something other than war._  
  
If he had known the things to come, he would have cherished the memories made underneath Minerva’s bronze gaze that night. And he would have prayed to see the signs that this fleeting thought held. But, he paid it only the mind that one pays such thoughts that show themselves at that time, when a night was long and the dawn is coming. Content to be where he was, Jude fell into a deep sleep, and dreamed only of the sight he would wake up to in the morning.


	2. Under His Eye

Time was a hard thing to tell underground; whenever he awoke in the lair, Jude had to rely on an internal clock until he took a glance at his phone, and that was almost never the first thing he went for. Eyes still bleary from sleep, he reluctantly opened them fully, despite all urges to stay where he was and drift off back to sleep, Raph's arms still half curled around him. Jude moved as slowly he could so as not to disturb his lover, but in his half-awake state a foot slipped from the mattress, knocking forward a sheaf of papers that must have been moved by the motion of the bed above it the night before.

With a muted sound of annoyance he moved himself both from Raph and the bed, his bare feet padding softly upon the floor as he pulled himself off the mattress, settling below it with a sharp intake of breath at the cold concrete against the milk-white skin of his thighs. The sheaf of papers were bound together by a loose string, which had come slightly undone by the accidental swipe his foot had taken. His hands reached down, gathering a few of the sheets that had scattered, stacking them neatly atop the rest again.

Curiousity did make him glance at the paper to see what was on them; violet eyes took in the scratchy black marks, realizing that they were drawings. He looked over at Raphael a moment, finding the turtle still far off and into sleep, before turning his head back downwards. Jude had known that his boyfriend was artistic, had even seen a few of these drawings --- some of them were just designs, others were portraits of various scenes Raphael must have watched unfold. The picture that he had picked up showed Mikey sprawled upon the couch, a bowl of popcorn tipping over onto him as it balanced upon his fingers. With a brush of his own fingers upon the paper came a whisper of what had happened: he saw, in flashes, Mikey flopping across the couch, saw him drop the popcorn bowl with but the wrong movement of his arm. As if he was hearing it from a far off room, Jude heard Raphael laugh at the sight of his brother half buried in the salty treat.

The prophet found a smile had broke across his own face as he came out of the effects of his clairvoyance, moving the paper gently to the floor and looking towards the next. What he saw there was enough to make his breath still in his lungs, enough to make him stack the rest of the papers off to the side and focus upon the one he now held. This one, unlike most, was in colour; the first reason his eyes were drawn to it.

Jude saw a figure lying among the clouds, his nude body lithe but toned, one leg drawn up just barely enough to keep the nudity tasteful. He saw, then, himself; the man's hair was long and just like his, and the face was a mirror. It was, he realized, a beautiful rendering of Hermes, the Greek God of messengers; for Jude saw the hands delicately cradling his famous staff. The god's head was crowned with a golden helmet and his feet strapped gracefully in matching winged sandals. The oracle's breath was finally released from his chest, too overflown with passion to hold it anymore. He pressed his hand gently to the paper, a smile coming to his lips...

...and then, the door opened.

For a moment, as his eyes moved up to the door, Jude could only recall a certain passage of the Bible. It was in Genesis, after Adam and Eve ate the apple and became aware of their nakedness. Because that was exactly what the seer thought this must feel like.

"Leonardo!" Jude rushed to cover himself, thanking Heaven that his grasping hand was able to both put down the portrait gently and find his underwear. The blue masked turtle just stood there a moment, though even without his sight, Jude could see wasn't looking. Through it all, Raphael was still asleep.

And Jude thanked God for it.

He got dressed, halfway, quicker than both the hour on the clock and his activities the night before would have let on. The seer shrugged on a leather jacket that was hanging off the drum set; not his own, but Raph's. Black leather provided a stark contrast to both Jude's skin and the silver spikes that decorated the shoulders like epaulettes. He let out another breath and then cleared his throat as he cast his gaze to Leo, looking him up down, watching as the eldest of the four swept blue eyes from the stack of papers to Raphael. Then he could feel those eyes on him, knowing that it shouldn't feel as awkward as it did; he wasn't anymore exposed than the few times they had all been swimming together. It was the setting, he decided, and the knowledge of what he'd been doing last night that was making this feel so uncomfortable.

"You should probably get going."

It was the first thing that the blue-clad leader had said since stepping into the room, and it snapped Jude's eyes up to meet the other's, staring right into the sapphiric depths. Time hadn't changed any of the brothers in obviously noticeable ways, though there was a certain quality to Leo that hadn't been there before. Perhaps it was the toll of losing and avenging a father, or just as likely, the effect of growing up itself. He still smiled the same way, like the way he was doing to Jude now. "He's got things to do today." Leo gave a nod towards Raph, who had started to stir.

For a moment, the prophet almost felt like a teenager again, being told to leave a friend's house. But he understood that this was nothing against him, at least not personally; and, as Jude had taken on the Hamato name, Leonardo was his leader in a sense as well. "You're the law, Leo." was the seer's response, rising up from the drum stand he'd perched on to pull on his shorts, the jacket shrugged off to put the shirt back on, then hung carefully where it had been before.

The turtle rolled his eyes. "Can the law walk you home, at least? I'd hate to be the one to tell Raph no one made sure you got home safe." With the rise in criminal activity in general --- and whispers of various kinds that the Foot were still in operation --- it wasn't a safe time for anyone to be out alone, and less safe still for someone associated with them. He could see the unsaid fact in Leo's eyes, knew it himself. So, with a nod and a quick press of his lips to a still stirring Raph's forehead, the two were out of the lair and heading back towards the Herald Square neighborhood where Jude lived.

It was early morning, dawn still stretching her rosy fingers in bright reds and yellows, a blazing orange streak across the clouds. Jude realized, as he clung to Leonardo's back while the turtle swung them down to his balcony, that the reason his limbs felt so weighty, the reason for the struggle to first pull himself from bed, was because he had barely even slept more than a couple of hours. Heaving a great sigh, the albino released Leo from his grip and plopped onto one of the chairs he'd put outside. The balcony was made entirely of concrete, a boon of living in an old building as Jude did; two pillars rose up and a ceiling was made by the balcony above him. A life-sized statue of an angel cradling lillies in one hand, the other raised with a finger pointed heavenward, stood near the door, looking out to the city. The aureole around the angel's head still glowed, faintly, and Leonardo was kind enough to unplug the statue as he sat down, dragging one of the chairs so he was behind the pillar and out of sight.

"It's been a while since we've done this." Leo was first to speak, leaning into his chair. The remark brought both a smile and a rush of memories, too many of them to count though a few stood out. Oftentimes, he and the turtle in blue were the first ones up in the morning; they had sat together watching the sunrise so many times over these few years. He remembered one in particular as he answered, finding that the memory played in his mind like a film. "Yeah. At least there's no alcohol involved this time."

In his memory came another dawn, another morning; tinted golden by Helios' chariot treading high among the constellations. Jude had invited the brothers, April, and Casey to come to his grandparent's home upstate for his birthday. It was a small, Victorian style house, though there were additions made to both the first and second floors, expanding them outwards and behind. The Harmons, through Jude's grandfather, owned both the house and the land surrounding it. This particular morning followed a night of revelry, for the house had no staff and champagne had eventually been found.

Still dizzily riding on the effervescent effect of the alcohol, Jude had made his way out through the heavy wooden door and into the courtyard. Laid out like a combination of a patio and a pleasure garden, the courtyard was made of cobblestones and greenery. A koi pond, decorated with clutches of wildflowers currently bloomless, most of them affixed crookedly now to the birthday boy's head, sat off to the side of the courtyard, underneath a statue of Apollo. Jude remembered finding Leonardo there, idly letting the bright-scaled fish eat bread crumbs from his hand.

"Or koi ponds to fall into." When Leonardo spoke again, clearly thinking of the same time -- for it'd been the first time since Splinter had passed --- he did so in Japanese. Jude was lucky enough that spending a year in the country and keeping up with his homestay family had kept him fluent enough in the language, then and now.

"That was the champagne. The one we shouldn't have been drinking." Though he said it with a disapproving veil to his voice, the quiver of his lips trying to keep from smiling gave away that the whole evening had been a fond memory.

Helios was making his rounds almost in full now, the sun speeding towards the highest point of morning by the time that their conversation ended. They were still laughing at the memory of Raphael trying and failing to smoke one of his grandfather's cigars when Jude went to his balcony door, sliding it open, Leonardo coming in behind him. The seer's movements were still lethargic while he made his way towards his bedroom, crossing the threshold with the lassiez-faire attitude of entering one's home.

Then, he saw angry red slashes marring his vision. At first, Jude's visceral reaction to the wet marks all over his wall was to think that it was blood. Horror overtook him just a moment, until his eyes landed on the small statue of St. Teresa of Lisieux and noticed that it was in fact paint, not blood. A pale hand reached up, fingers grazing the wall as he plucked the statue down to inspect it. Though the pink lights around her were stained, the statue was untouched, save for the small shelf it rested on. There was a sudden ripple through his body, a flash of images, the whispers of angels; one name on their fiery tongues, a chorus of the blessed repeating the same thing, his own lips moving to form the word: _Karai_. Jude shook his head, a sudden weight upon his shoulders as he carefully put the statue back. Violet eyes then took in what the markings were, seeing that they formed an ominous symbol: the personal kanji of one Oroku Saki. For a moment, he could do nothing but stare, barely registering the sound of Leo moving through the apartment, probably checking the other rooms.

If this hadn't chased the atrophy from his body, then the hard grip suddenly on his shoulder surely would have. The periphery of Jude's vision was filled with blue as he felt himself being suddenly scooped up, the lethargy gone but replaced with a chilling shot to his spine. "We have to get back before there's too many people around. Hold on tight." The turtle affixed something to his belt, and the seer nodded, the ice in his spine hardening to steel.

"Then go. We have plans to make." Jude heard himself respond, faster than it felt to even think the phrase. The seer was glad that he sounded more assured than he currently felt. His grip on the leather strap that held Leo's sheath was tight, tight enough to turn his already pale skin bone white. What he didn't tell the other was what he had seen when his fingers brushed the wall. Clairvoyance meant "true sight" in Greek, and if he'd had the time, Jude would have thought that his hiding what truth his sight showed him was ironic. But he couldn't mention it, not yet. Not here. Leo was already working his way backwards, carrying Jude tightly in his arms.


	3. The Archer, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where things are starting to get a bit darker, a bit more melodramatic, but in the best of both ways! The first two-part chapter, I promise that the second part won't take me another millennia to write. Please leave your feedback on the work, I would love love love to hear what you have to say! Also, this is one of the first time in a long while I've tried to write in Raph's POV, so I hope you all enjoy.

Raphael had never been one to remember his dreams; if he did, it was only vaguely and the longer that he stayed awake, the more faded and blurred his recollection of them became. One thing that he did know as he opened his eyes, hand sliding across the mattress, was that he hadn't slept enough, and what few hours he did get had only made his aching muscles feel heavier. When he felt the way that his hand slid unimpeded over the too-soft mattress, his gaze went to where Jude had been, suddenly feeling the absence and sitting up fully, years of training instantly tensing his muscles as he looked around the room. 

Years of knowing Jude, however, stopped the initial jolt of panic that had snapped him awake. _He must be in the kitchen or something; no need to start combing the streets yet, Raphael._ With a stretch of his arms above his head, the red-masked turtle drew himself fully from the bed, a breathy groan released as he rubbed at his eyes. He caught a glimpse of color on the floor and bent down to pick up a paper from where it lay; bringing it closer, he saw that it was his own drawing. Not that it was surprising, given he was in his own room. But that it was this piece, one he’d done rather recently, something that he’d planned to show Jude when they had the time inspired a small sting of disappointment in Raphael. He shook it off, turned the momentary bitterness into something sweeter; now he had the perfect way to greet his husband this morning. With this in mind, he opened his door, still holding the drawing in his hand, expecting to see Jude in the kitchen. Every step was a scene unfolding; almost like one of the young diviner’s own visions, he saw Jude in his mind’s eye, sipping on orange juice with ice piled high in the glass. It was something he never personally found too odd, though he did remember April once playfully barbing Jude about it. The thought of even that made Raph’s lips twitch ever so slightly upward.

Only a few more steps brought the scene to a screeching halt.

Instead of Jude in the kitchen, there was a purple-masked turtle standing at the coffee pot, refilling a cup that even from his distance Raphael could see had been used already. “Donnie?” His brother’s name came to his mouth quick, unbidden, like he was surprised to see him there. Donatello looked over at him, taking a long sip of the still-hot liquid in his cup, black as a starless night. 

“Good morning to you too, Raph.” The inventor’s voice had a chirping, short-clipped and barely polite quality to it, and whether it was the coffee or how long he’d been up in general, Raphael didn’t know. He crossed his arms, beyond tempted to roll his eyes, a temptation he almost ignored before asking where Jude was. Another sip, and Donnie came to the counter, then set the cup down, looking at Raphael from across the way. “He’s at home, I’d assume. Though, you know what they say about _that._ I came out about an hour ago to fill up the first time.” He took another drink, not wanting to let it cool down too much. “Leo was walking him out of your room when the sun was just coming up. Given the time ---”

“It don’t exactly take an hour to get to his place.” Raphael interrupted, his tone more aggressive than he’d intended. But he'd already checked his phone and knew the time. He also knew how long it took to get to his husband’s house through the sewers, and it was only about twenty minutes at the most, fifteen or sometimes even ten, depending on how they were getting there. 

For a split second, as Donnie shrugged his shoulders and returned to his work after suggesting he eat something, a jealous thought shot through Raph's mind like an arrow hitting its mark. "I don't get it! He always thinks that havin' Jude around is gonna make me unfocused, but it doesn't!" His brother had stopped and turned back around, looking over his cup of coffee as the red masked turtle continued. "I'm more focused than ever when he's here, an'this ain't just some teenage romance, we're both fuckin' adults! In fact…" he was so angry that he sputtered out the next words. "In fact, I think tha'it makes _Leo -- >_" 

Before any more could come out of his mouth, the door burst open. In through the threshold came the one constant that had been in all of his thoughts this morning; Jude looked around for just a moment until green eyes met violet, and Raphael was on his feet, next to his lover in an instant. "What happened?" He asked, able to gauge that the albino was shaken by something, Jude stepping up to meet him fully. He watched, lifting his hand to take Jude's in his own as the seer shook his head, frustration clear on his brow while he spoke. 

"Someone left Oroku Saki's mark on my wall."

These words, though ominous, inspired nothing but more anger in him; his arms came protectively around Jude, half-holding him, and the seer shook his head again. "That's not all." He said, eyes full of obvious confusion as they flicked to Leo, who had brought Mikey into the conversation by getting him away from the TV. Then they were back on Raph, and one of his hands was fidgeting with the crucifix about his neck. "Karai was the one who put it there. I --"

"Wait, how do you know that?" Leo asked, though Raph could tell that his brother knew there was no reason to ask. Because of his powers, sometimes Jude just _knew_ things, and there had been more than a few times where it was proven that it was best to not ignore them. The albino didn’t respond, just let out a breath, violet eyes glancing towards the blue-masked turtle before his gaze drifted off. In that moment, Raphael was pierced by a second arrow; one full of anger that wreathed his heart in fire. He held Jude to him, finding satisfaction spread over his skin when the seer's body weighed upon him; and then he let him go, stepping up as if accepting a challenge on Jude's behalf. 

"I know what we can do ta fix this. Or really, what I can do. But I'd need all'a yer help." His mask suddenly felt tight about his eyes, perhaps from how much his brow furrowed as he brought his gaze to each of his brothers. “I need your help to infiltrate The Foot Clan; I know, it sounds crazy and reckless, but if I had all’a you watching out for me, then --” 

_“No.”_  
The word came from Leonardo’s mouth with the finality of a katana slicing through paper; it was sharp, his interruption nearly seamless if it had not been so jarring to Raph. The fires surrounding his heart grew hotter and he, despite all urges, all the lessons he had learnt, poured gasoline onto them. “The fuck do you mean, ‘no’, Leo? They been a thorn in our side since we first went topside; just because Shredder’s gone don’t mean that someone ain’t gonna take his place.” His brother tried to interrupt again, but Raph kept going, his anger making it easy for him to steamroll over the Hamato Clan’s leader with voice alone. That the other had the nerve, the balls, to talk to him like an unruly student, to talk to him like he was Splinter! The stinging salt in the wound of the quickness of the refusal was that, piled ontop of the fact that this was Jude’s safety on the line. “You said that yerself! An’ if destroyin’ them from the inside is what it takes, then I’m gonna do it.”

“But you’re not! I forbid you, Raph. It’s too dangerous, there’s too much that could go wrong.” was the blue masked turtle’s response, followed by a chorus of similar sentiments from his other brothers. Whatever emotions this might have usually stirred, he was too blinded by his anger already and too riled up to let himself really understand. Jude, though, had been mostly quiet and was still that way after the outburst; green eyes went over to him and took in the way the seer shook his head and sighed. He looked as if he almost regretted saying a word about what had happened.

This made Raph’s anger spike again, though he wasn’t sure who he was angry at; if it was Leonardo or Jude, or all of them. He could feel the anger spill over into rage, the heat of it opening old wounds he'd thought were closed; before he even knew what his hands were doing, he had flipped over the nearby living room table with a pained but wrathful cry. A pizza box and the remote went flying, and there was the deafening sound of wood breaking with the force it met the floor.

**"FUCK YOU, LEO!"**

The red-masked turtle hadn't even noticed that Jude had scrambled backwards, startled by the sudden violence of his outburst. "You don't get to forbid me from anythin', you don't fuckin' get to talk to me like -- like you're our father!" Raphael could feel hot, angry tears stinging the corners of his eyes, but he pushed on, advancing on his brother in blue, who stepped up to meet him, their foreheads bumping together. "And ya wanna know somethin'? You ain't ever gonna be, so stop tryin' so fucking hard!" With that, his hands came up and shoved the other away, roughly, enough to make him stumble a couple steps backwards. The tears that had threatened to fall had wet his mask, but even with his blurred vision, he turned and made his way towards the door, so angry that the thought of looking back to see Jude be held back by Leo didn't cross his mind, though he could hear them.

For now, he simply walked away.


End file.
